I thought I was being strong…
I thought standing on my own two feet was strong.
I thought not needing a man, or anyone, was strong.
I thought declaring how independent I was, was strong.
I thought faking smiles and refusing comfort, was strong.
I thought being masculine, was strong.
I was a strong woman, I identified with that ‘miss independent’ I was, and like a badge of honor I paraded around with it. I knew who I was, what I needed, what I could do, and no one would ever take this from me. I held the space for myself. I was strong.
I had been burnt before, time and time again, and without a man able to rebuild. I knew what needy felt like, and I shied away from it rising again. I knew what I didn’t want to be, so I ran, attracting the opposite.
And when I had him, I made sure he knew that. I made sure it was clear, I was strong. I pushed and resented. I shuddered and squirmed. I refused and avoided. His masculinity, I stole. I wore it on my own. I held the energy of us both, I needed that- because I was strong enough, without him.
Except…. I wasn’t strong.
To be a strong woman is to know I can do it alone but I’d like him to help. To know I don’t need him, I want him.
To be a strong woman is to not need to declare it constantly. To not take his power away to ignite my own. To not feel inferior when he helps. To be a strong woman is to be vulnerable enough to admit she isn’t always strong.
I was avoiding, suppressing, hiding. I was running from a weakness and a fear so big I couldn’t stand to feel the weight of it grow anymore.
I can see now, I was weak. I was hiding behind a mask I had worn for too long, one of masculinity, one that didn’t quit fit. I was withholding his power for unconscious lack of my own. I was holding space for the both of us, no room for him left. I knew I needed him, I knew I needed help, I knew I wanted him, but I was to weak to show it. I was fixated that showing him, was a weakness, allowing him to be a man, was weakness.
SO I pushed, I didn’t want to feel inferior, I didn’t want to feel nurtured , I didn’t want to feel looked after.. I would cringe under his loving touch, reminding him again and again I didn’t need him. Pushing further and further away.
All he wanted was to be a man, to stand in the power that was rightfully his. And I can see now that letting him be that, is strength. Letting a man, be a man takes strength.
It takes strength to be okay with admitting you want his help.
It takes strength to be alright with showing him you need him.
It takes strength to be able to stand by him, without tearing him down.
To all the strong women out there, this is for you, we can do it alone.
We can. We don’t need a man. We don’t need adorning. We don’t need his help. We don’t need someone to save us.
We don’t need someone to comfort us.
We don’t need someone to support us.
But life can be pretty beautiful letting him.
We can be strong, but so can they.
We can embrace our own strength, our own power, our own light and stand together in the power of us both.
We can be hard and soft, intertwined together.
We can compliment and build together.
We can give and take and evolve together.
We can share the space, the masks, the roles.
We can be strong, and let him be to.
Let him help, let him be right sometimes (even if he’s wrong), let him not ask for directions, change the light bulb for you, let him open doors and hold you when you hurt, let him show you how he fixes things, let him tell you all about things he truthfully may know nothing about, just let him.
If you find your gripping onto your masks with intention of never letting go, I beg you to ask why. Because there is space of both sides of us, of both of us, in this world. It may be that we have been burnt before, but I promise it will be okay
Because you’re a strong woman, and even if your burnt again you’ll rise from the ashes like you always do.
But for now, please, let him.